I used to be a chronic nail biter.

Except I can’t remember it.

The action I mean; I can’t remember biting them.

I’m not sure at what age it started but I do remember (sometime as a Primary School aged student) that yucky paint-on medicine stuff that attempted to dissuade one from having a chew. I also remember (sometime as a teen) at one point buying fake red nails (a.k.a. talons) and gluing them on top in order to let my nails grow underneath. Good idea – they were bitten off within minutes of the fake ones coming off. And family members share that it was always worst when I had been to swimming squad.

The strongest two parts I can remember about that whole part of my life were when I suddenly stopped biting them at age 23 when I was overseas, and could then go and have a manicure, and then on moving back to Australia I had to learn how to cut and basically manicure my own finger nails. At the age of 31!

So why the blog on nails, as they gently make a tap tap sound on the keyboard? I thought it an experience worth sharing as I was reflecting on unconsciousness…

in relation to my body…

that don’t even register now…

yet that I can look back on and still filter for lessons from.

What was the little-you afraid of and has she/he had her needs addressed in this world of you being a grown up?

On a personal note – I’m off to the swimming pool. Swim swim swim